Boris Akunin - Special Assignments

Anisii replied with paternal sternness: 'You shouldn't be wandering the streets at night. You never know, you might run into some crazy murderer with a knife.'

But the saucy girl wasn't bothered in the slightest. 'Oh, such concern. I don't reckon I'll get killed. We're watched - the boyfriend keeps an eye on us.'

And yes, there on the other side of the street, Anisii could see a silhouette in the shade. Realising he'd been spotted, the ponce came over unhurriedly, at a slovenly stroll. He was a very stylish specimen: beaver-fur cap pulled down over the eyes, fur coat hanging dashingly open, a snow-white muffler covering half his face and white spats as well.

He began speaking with a drawl, and a gold-capped tooth glinted in his mouth. 'I beg your pardon, sir. Either take the young lady or be on your way. Don't go wasting a working girl's time.'

The girl looked adoringly at her protector, and that angered Tulipov even more than her pimp's insolence.

'Don't you go telling me what to do!' Anisii said angrily. 'I'll drag you down to the station in no time.'

The ponce turned his head quickly to the left and the right, saw that the street was empty and inquired with an even slower, more menacing drawl: 'You sure the dragger won't come unstuck?'

Ah, so it's like that, is it?' Anisii grabbed the rogue by his collar with one hand, and took his whistle out of his pocket with the other. There was a police constable's post round the corner on Tverskaya Street, and it was only a stone's throw to the gendarme station.

'Run for it, Ineska, I'll handle this!' the gold-toothed scoundrel said.

The girl immediately picked up her skirts and set off as fast as her legs would carry her, and the brazen ponce said in Erast Petrovich's voice: 'Stop blowing that thing, Tulipov. You've deafened me.'

The constable, Semyon Sychov, ran up, puffing and panting like a horse jangling its harness.

The Chief held out a fifty-kopeck piece to him: 'Good man, you're a fast runner.'

Semyon Lukich didn't take the money from the suspicious-looking man and glanced quizzically at Anisii.

'Yes, it's all right, Sychov, off you go my friend,' Tulipov said in embarrassment. 'I'm sorry for bothering you.'

Only then did Semyon Sychkov take the fifty kopecks, salute in a highly respectful manner and set off back to his post.

'How's Angelina - is she not sleeping?' Erast Petrovich asked, with a glance at the bright windows of the outhouse.

'No, she's waiting for you.'

'In that case, if you don't object, let's take a walk and have a little talk.'

'Chief, what's this masquerade in aid of? In the note it said you were going to approach things from the other side. What "other side" is that?'

Fandorin squinted at his assistant in clear disapproval. 'You're not thinking too well, Tulipov. "From the other side" means from the side of the Ripper's victims. I assumed that the women of easy virtue that our character seems to have a particular hatred for might know something we don't. They might have seen someone suspicious, heard something, g-guessed something. So I decided to do a bit of reconnaissance. These people aren't going to open up to a policeman or an official, so I chose the most appropriate camouflage. I must say that I've enjoyed distinct success in the role of a ponce,' Erast Petrovich added modestly. 'Several fallen creatures have volunteered to transfer to my protection, which has caused dissatisfaction among the competition - Slepen, Kazbek and Zherebchik.'

Anisii was not in the least surprised by his chief's success in the field of procuring - he was a really handsome fellow, and tricked out in full Khitrovka-Grachyovka chic too. Speaking aloud, he asked: 'Did you get any results?'

'I have a couple of things,' Fandorin replied cheerfully. 'Mamselle Ineska, whose charms, I believe, did not leave you entirely indifferent, told me an amusing little story. One evening a month and a half ago, she was approached by a man who said something strange: "How unhappy you look. Come with me and I'll bring you joy." But Ineska, being a commonsensical sort of girl, didn't go with him, because as he came up, she saw him hide something behind his back, and that something glinted in the moonlight. And it seems a similar kind of thing happened with another girl, either Glashka or Dashka. There was even blood spilt that time, but she wasn't killed. I'm hoping to find this Glashka-Dashka.'

'It must be him, the Ripper!' Anisii exclaimed excitedly. 'What does he look like? What does your witness say?'

'That's just the problem: Ineska didn't get a look at him. The man's face was in the shadow, and she only remembered the voice. She says it was soft, quiet and polite. Like a cat purring.'

And his height? His clothes?'

'She doesn't remember. She admits herself that she'd taken a drop too much. But she says he wasn't a gent and he wasn't from Khitrovka either - something in between.'

Aha, that's already something,' said Anisii, and he started bending down his fingers. 'Firstly it is a man after all. Secondly, a distinctive voice. Thirdly, from the middle classes.'

'That's all nonsense,' the Chief said abruptly. 'The killer can quite easily change clothes for his n-nocturnal adventures. And the voice is suspicious. What does "like a cat purring" mean? No, we can't completely exclude a woman.'

Tulipov remembered Izhitsin's reasoning. 'Yes, and the place! Where did he approach her? In Khitrovka?'

'No, Ineska's a Grachyovka lady, and her zone of influence takes in Trubnaya Square and the surrounding areas. The man approached her on Sukharev Square.'

'Sukharev Square fits too,' said Anisii, thinking. 'That's just ten minutes' walk from the Tatar suburb in Vypolzovo.'

All right, Tulipov, stop.' The Chief himself actually stopped walking. 'What has the Tatar suburb to do with all this?'

Now it was Anisii's turn to tell his story. He began with the most important thing - Izhitsin's 'investigative experiment'.

Erast Petrovich listened with his eyes narrowed. He repeated one word: 'Custigo?'

'Yes, I think so. That's what Nesvitskaya said. Or something like it. Why, what is it?'

'Probably "Castigo", which means "retribution" in Italian,'

Fandorin explained. 'The Sicilian police founded a s-sort of secret order that used to kill thieves, vagrants, prostitutes and other inhabitants of society's nether regions. The members of the organisation used to lay the blame for the killings on the local criminal communities and carry out reprisals against them. Well, it's not a bad idea from our midwife. You could probably expect that from Izhitsin.'

When Anisii finished telling him about the 'experiment', the Chief said gloomily: 'Yes, if one of our threesome is the Ripper, it won't so easy to catch him - or her - now. Forewarned is forearmed.'

'Izhitsin said that if none of them gave themselves away during the experiment, he'd order them to be put under open surveillance.'

And what good is that? If there are any clues, they will be destroyed. Every maniac always has something like a collection of souvenirs of sentimental value. Maniacs, Tulipov, are a sentimental tribe. One takes a scrap of clothing from the corpse, another takes something worse. There was one barbaric murderer, who killed six women, who used to collect their navels -he had a fatal weakness for that innocent part of the body. The dried navels become the most important clue. Our own "surgeon" knows his anatomy, and every time one of the internal organs is missing. I surmise that that the killer takes them away with him for his collection.'

'Chief, are you sure the Ripper has to be a doctor?' Anisii asked, and he introduced Erast Petrovich to Izhitsin's butcher theory, and at the same time to his incisive plan.

'So he doesn't believe in the English connection?' Fandorin said in surprise. 'But the similarities with the London killings are obvious. No, Tulipov, this was all done by one and the same person. Why would a Moscow butcher go to England?'